


how a professional dancer properly makes an egg sandwich

by cornbreadkent



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Dancer AU, Genderfluid Yuuri, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Phichit is an Amazing Friend, Slow Burn, Yuuri-centric, humor?, i just wanted to write about yuuri dancing to 7/11 by beyonce, yuuri goes by he and also they
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-16
Updated: 2017-04-29
Packaged: 2018-09-24 21:42:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,573
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9788351
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cornbreadkent/pseuds/cornbreadkent
Summary: About a month after the video had its fifteen minutes of fame, Yuuri is trying to walk as fast as he can to the chemistry lab without dropping the binders and papers in his arms when he crashes into Viktor Nikiforov. Viktor Nikiforov, most attractive person Yuuri has ever seen and internet personality that Yuuri keeps embarrassingly close tabs on, whose immediate reaction after Yuuri gracelessly stutters through multiple apologies is to smile blindingly and say, “Oh, you’re the boy from the video!”In that moment, with complete certainty, Yuuri knew that his life was over.EDIT: discontinued because h





	1. Yoncé all on his mouth like liquor

**Author's Note:**

> I was thinking about how if I had to pole dance for whatever reason, I would dance to the song 7/11 by Beyonce. Then I started thinking about Yuuri pole dancing to 7/11 by Beyonce. Now I am here at 3am on a school night. Have I done any of my work? no. And the title is ridiculous but honestly I like it.
> 
> If you don't know the song 7/11, please listen to it first because I make a lot of references to the lyrics and if you don't get them I just sound stupid, please,

Yuuri is just an undergraduate at a respectable university. The most uncommon thing about him used to be that he’s a foreigner from Hasetsu, Japan, but that was only when he was attending high school in the relatively small town his parents decided to live in. Now that he’s at university, his own dormmate is from Thailand, and the most popular person in his class spent the first twenty-two years of his life in Russia: the most uncommon thing about him now is probably that he takes the highest diagnosable amount of anxiety medication a day, which nobody but Phichit knows about. This is good; Yuuri has no problem with blending in with the crowds. He prefers it, really.

Then Phichit, a social presence with thousands upon thousands of followers on his Tumblr, Twitter, YouTube, Instagram, and probably other social platforms Yuuri isn’t even aware Phichit actively uses, had to upload a video of Yuuri onto the aforementioned social platforms.

A video of naïve Yuuri shamelessly dancing to 7/11 by Beyoncé in his parents’ kitchen.

The video, titled “how a professional dancer properly makes an egg sandwich,” features Yuuri in his pajamas of choice (a large and ugly tee shirt with briefs poking out from underneath them) making, predictably, an egg sandwich. 7/11 blares from a portable, wireless speaker connected to Yuuri’s phone, and Yuuri, who was at the time participating in dance classes for ballet, Latin, and hip-hop, enthusiastically dances and sings along. There is an embarrassing amount of body rolls and hip movement; as Yuuri cracks open the shell, he smacks it in the air; as he flips his egg, he stands up with his hands up; as he applies condiments to the toast, he’s spinning with his foot up. As he notices Phichit around the corner with a phone pointing at him, Yuuri holds that coke like alcohol. And then yelps and blushes at an impressive speed for such a deep shade. The camera shakes as Phichit gets cramps in his stomach from laughing.

 The video went viral. Literally, astonishingly, actually went viral. People started stopping him in public and asking him if he was the dancer from the egg sandwich video. To Yuuri’s absolute embarrassment, more than a few of these people shared lectures with him.

Yuuri tried to deny it, but Phichit, more popular than Yuuri and a complete gossip, was too happy to show every person nearby the video of “my roommate Yuuri Katsuki dancing to Beyoncé, it’s amazing.”

Now everyone on campus seems to know who he is and it’s awful. Even though Phichit apologizes, Yuuri knows that his friend is not regretful in the least. The staring eventually died down, people’s eyes glazed over his frame again, and Yuuri forgave Phichit, but if Phichit had pulled something like this in high school, Yuuri would have probably had a heart attack and died.

Of course, about a month after the video had its fifteen minutes of fame, Yuuri is trying to walk as fast as he can to the chemistry lab without dropping the binders and papers in his arms when he crashes into Viktor Nikiforov. Viktor Nikiforov, most attractive person Yuuri has ever seen and internet personality that Yuuri keeps embarrassingly close tabs on, whose immediate reaction after Yuuri gracelessly stutters through multiple apologies is to smile blindingly and say, “Oh, you’re the boy from the video!”

In that moment, with complete certainty, Yuuri knew that his life was over.

After a solid five seconds of staring with his mouth open, Yuuri scrambles to pick up his scattered materials, because what exactly is he supposed to say to that? Elegant and pale hands start to collect the fallen supplies as well, and soon enough Viktor Nikiforov—Yuuri still cannot process that he is breathing the same air as this man—is giving him another smile as he hands over the poor, battered data for Yuuri’s current lab report.

“Here you go,” the Russian man says. “Good luck with your lab.”

Viktor Nikiforov will not stop looking at him. “You—thank you,” Yuuri says, luckily stopping himself from saying, “You, too,” at the last second. Crisis averted. Yuuri knows every class Viktor takes, and Chemistry is not one of them.

The intercommunication was polite, coincidental, and quick, and they do not interact again for another three months.

Then Yuuri has one of his bad days during an important presentation and completely ruins any semblance of reputation he held. Now he can be known as the kid who stuttered through his presentation so much, and forgot such crucial parts of the project, that his Immensely Important Biochemistry Presentation was completely incomprehensible, instead of the boy from the video. Fucking fantastic.

That day is the same one that Yuuri and Viktor interact again because there is a party being hosted by Viktor’s fraternity that night. Yuuri is not normally one for such things, but there is no doubt going to be alcohol, and Yuuri really needs any sort of distraction he can get. Phichit, ever the supportive friend, gets Yuuri the katsudon from the traditional Japanese restaurant twenty minutes away (which Yuuri promptly eats) and then they head over to the fraternity house.

There are a lot of people there. Yuuri drinks glass after glass of beer, which is the only alcohol being served other than tequila. Phichit watches with concern, but doesn’t do more than slow him down and make him drink water. Almost the whole time, Phichit is by Yuuri’s side, even though he would normally be going around talking to every person in the vicinity. There is, however, a moment when Yuuri leans over and says into Phichit’s ear over the music, “I need to piss,” and Phichit, a little tipsy himself, giggles uncontrollably for a few seconds and then points to a side of the room and says, “First left in the hallway.” Yuuri leaves without another word, relieves himself, and hazily begins to walk back to Phichit.

Now, here’s the thing:

Yuuri, with the gracious support of his parents, is continuing to attend dance classes. Yuuri still takes ballet and hip-hop, but there is a third class he takes that not a soul on earth other than Yuuri and his instructor know about. That class is pole dancing.

He is the last type of person someone would expect to take up pole dancing, himself included. But right in the middle of Minako’s ballet studio is a steel pole that Yuuri must have glanced at a few times too often, because then she was teaching him the basics of the basics of pole dancing after her other students had left. Minako didn’t describe the dancing type as “risqué” and “sexual,” which didn’t appeal to Yuuri, but as “feminine” and “challenging,” which did. After that, Yuuri got private pole dancing lessons with Minako and never regretted it.

Now, here’s the other thing:

Christophe Giacometti, another member of the fraternity hosting the party, is openly gay and hypersexual. Therefore, he had absolutely no qualms with getting a dancing pole installed in the most open place in the house—right in the middle of the first floor—and performing on it for anybody who would watch. Throughout the night, Christophe has danced on it multiple times, but around an hour ago, he went upstairs with another boy, and he hasn’t come back down. Yuuri only knows this because Phichit had made a bet with someone that those two would start dating and was very happy that it seems like he will win.

There is an obvious connection; Yuuri can pole dance, he is drunk, there is a pole for dancing. But this combination, however potent, was not enough to get Yuuri dancing for everyone at the party. What really does it is when an intimately familiar song starts blasting through the house and someone grabs Yuuri’s shoulder and laughs, “Just for you, egg boy.” Yuuri doesn’t know this person, has never seen her in his life, but it’s one of the funniest things anyone has ever told him, and then everyone is cheering for egg boy to dance to 7/11 by Beyoncé and Yuuri is drunk.

He starts dancing, with everyone watching, and is having the best time he has had in a long while. Everything is really hot, so he takes off his shoes and socks and pants and unbuttons his shirt as the people nearest him cheer and whistle loudly.

Yuuri sees the pole and has the best idea of his life.

He climbs the pole to the loudest cheers he has ever received. Half of the people below him have their phone out, and Yuuri could not care less.

Yuuri swings his legs for momentum for a reverse grab spin and people below him lose their shit. Yuuri’s perception might be distorted, but this pole feels very tall. Everyone in the first floor of the place, which is a majority of the party-goers, can see him from the top. Yuuri sees Phichit looking at him from across the room and laughing so hard that he’s doubled over and tears gather at the corners of his eyes. Yuuri smiles and waves at him, and Phichit responds by whooping for him loudly.

Yuuri poses and twirls and climbs and falls and has the time of his life. For the first time that night, Yuuri sees Viktor Nikiforov, and he is looking at Yuuri with amusement and fascination. He is also holding one of the many bottles of tequila at the party.

Yuuri slides down the pole and locks gaze with crystal blue as he walks over, face flushed, no pants, and shirt slipping down his arms enough that he decides to shrug that off, too. When Yuuri reaches Viktor, he is wearing nothing but a pair of black briefs. Continuing to maintain the most intense eye contact Yuuri has probably ever initiated in his time on this world, Yuuri takes the open bottle of tequila and _chugs_.

It goes down like nail polish remover. Yuuri puts a hand on Viktor’s shoulder for support, and when he sways dangerously, elegant hands grab Yuuri’s hips. In the background, there’s indecipherable chanting and yelling and singing and cheering. Beyoncé reminds everyone not to drop that alcohol. Viktor’s eyes are a truly captivating blue. Yuuri has never felt more alive.

Yuuri doesn’t know exactly how much of the fucking acid he swallows, but it’s a lot. He has the thought that he’ll regret that later and giggles. He looks up to find Viktor Nikiforov staring at him like Yuuri just singlehandedly changed the laws of physics. Yuuri giggles more and realizes he no longer has the tequila. He doesn’t know where it went, but he was done, anyway. Yuuri wraps his arms around Viktor Nikiforov’s neck and rolls his body. Yuuri sings along with Beyonce, still looking Viktor dead on. Yuuri wants to kiss him, but there is probably no level of drunk Yuuri could get on to do _that_. He considers trying to find out if there is, but remembers that the tequila is gone. Instead he grinds against Viktor once more as obscenely as he possibly can and calls it a job well done. He pulls away—Viktor still had his hands on Yuuri’s hips, he didn’t notice—and goes back to the pole. The tequila hasn’t hit him yet, but it might as well have. Yuuri is a completely different person.

Fergalicious by Fergie comes on, and if Yuuri were sober he might be embarrassed by how well he knows the song. As he is now, Yuuri unabashedly sings along to every syllable.

At some point, Christophe had come back down from upstairs. The cheering probably made him curious. He walks up to the pole and Yuuri hops off of it for him to use, but the man gently grabs his wrist and tugs him back to the pole. “Let’s dance together,” he says, lips brushing Yuuri’s ear, and Yuuri nods with a pleased smile. He’s never done that before, but it sounds like fun.

It is an incredible amount of fun. Yuuri’s mirth is so overwhelming that he almost falls from the pole multiple times because of his laughter. There is so much alcohol in his system that he should not be able to stand, let alone pole dance, but Yuuri is a dancer at heart and his balance does not fail him.

The spinning starts to become too much, so Yuuri slides to the ground and starts challenging people to dance offs. The only person he purposefully seeks out is Viktor, who has gone from stunned back to amused. He easily takes Yuuri’s hand when it’s offered and dips and twirls to Yuuri’s lead. Tonight has been great, but this, Yuuri thinks, with Viktor looking at him like he hung the stars and laughing like he’s never been happier, is the best part of the night, best part of the year.

He commits it to memory and decides to never forget.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Does Yuuri never forget? Cast your votes now
> 
> EDIT: guys.... i wrote "pole" as "poll" two times....how dare i call myself a writer.... . . . .... ... .. . . .


	2. woke up in the kitchen saying how the hell did this shit happen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Who uploads at 11am on a tuesday? ya boi russ who didn't go to school because their anxiety decided to get very intimate with them today B] (i'm better now don't worry)
> 
> Also, shoutout to Mutsz whose information about how sore dancers get really helped me out. The only part of me that gets sore is my ass when I sit on it for too long, so I just had Yuuri walking around all casually like he wasn't in crippling pain.
> 
> The title of this chapter is from Beyonce's Drunk in Love because it is scientifically proven that I don't know when to stop.

Yuuri really wishes he could forget.

There are things he doesn’t remember, sure, like the exact people he danced with, but at the same time, he remembers _everything_. People cheering as he stripped, cheering as he danced, cheering as he got on the pole, and Viktor Nikiforov.

Holy shit, does he remember Viktor Nikiforov. Especially _grinding against him_.

Yuuri screams into his pillow. Viktor had just stared at him the whole time. Yuuri must have made him so uncomfortable. He’s too embarrassed to even go through his morning ritual of checking Viktor’s Twitter and Instagram. If Yuuri sees any mention of the party last night, he will explode.

The door to the dorm room swings open. “Ah, you’re awake,” Phichit chirps. Too happy. “Do you have a headache? I was making you drink water but then you had, like, half a bottle of tequila. One of the most impressive things I’ve ever seen, by the way.”

Yuuri looks up from his pillow and sends Phichit a shaky smile. “Good, because I think eating glass would have been more pleasant. And I have a headache, but it’s not that bad.” Yuuri sits up and dies. He never knew how many muscles were used to sit up until every one of them felt like they’d been ripped apart. “Mostly my body is really sore.”

Phichit hums. “Well, you did dance your heart out. I’m glad you don’t have much of a hangover, but you should take an aspirin, anyways. Oh, and I got you a breakfast bagel, hopefully that helps, too.”

The dancer’s smile is more genuine as he takes the offered aspirin, water, and bagel. Reaching out his arm to grab them fucking hurts, though. “You’re the best, Phichit.”

“I know,” he sings.

“So,” the Thai boy says, rocking Yuuri’s bed as he sits at the foot of it, “how much do you remember?” Phichit laughs at Yuuri’s expression. Yuuri decides that Phichit is a sadist.

Yuuri takes another tentative bite and swallows as he tries to remember getting back to the dorm. “What happened at the end?”

“Do you remember dancing with Viktor?” Yuuri turns pink and nods. “You said something to him like, ‘Where’s Phichit? I’m going to pass out,’ and then passed out.” A smile breaks out on Phichit’s face as he remembers. “I was talking to Chris about how I had no idea you could even pole dance when he walked up to me with you asleep on him. He looked so concerned!” In a poor imitation of Viktor’s pitch and accent, he says, “‘Excuse me, are you Phichit? Yuuri just fell asleep.’” Phichit claps his hands together. “And then we took you back here and that was that.”

Imagining Viktor carrying him is extremely addicting, but he stops to ask, “Chris?”

“Giacometti,” Phichit clarifies. “He’s really friendly! You should talk to him, too.”

Yuuri thinks about it for all of one second before casting it aside. Even if Christophe would want to talk to him because of last night, he got a very bad impression of the kind of person the anxious boy really is. “Did you stay behind, too?”

“Oh, no, I went back with Viktor and Chris.” Yuuri doesn’t like the smile that breaks out on Phichit’s face and he instinctively leans back (ow) as Phichit leans in. “I found out some very interesting things about what Viktor thinks of you.”

Yuuri’s resolve falters and he breaks the eye contact. “O-Oh? Like what?”

“Like that he thinks your butt looks really nice.” Yuuri squeaks. “Kidding! He just said that you’re very fun and different from what he expected. You do have a really good butt, though.” Yuuri wonders if his face is ever going to go back to its normal complexion.

“But more importantly!” Phichit suddenly exclaims, as if another thought had caught his attention. “Why did I, your best friend and possible platonic soul mate, not know that you could pole dance?!”

Yuuri glances back to Phichit, but his gaze is fiery and he holds it for a tenth of a second. “It’s embarrassing, Phichit.”

“I think you mean that it’s _hot_ ,” Phichit cries, throwing his arms up in exasperation. He grabs Yuuri’s shoulders a little too harshly. Chocolate eyes come completely into focus as he comes within a foot of Yuuri’s face. “Yuuri! This is a whole side of you that I didn’t know! I need to know these things! How long!”

Yuuri is overwhelmed. “How long?”

“How long have you been able to pole dance!”

“Well, I started taking lessons with Minako about two years ago—”

“Yuuri! That’s before the beginning of freshman year!” Seemingly out of words, Phichit resorts to shaking Yuuri’s shoulders. “Yuuri!”

“Phichit, stop, that really hurts!”

A joking voice from somewhere behind Phichit asks, “Am I interrupting something?”

Phichit turns to the open (?? when did it open?) doorway as Yuuri scrambles to get his glasses from the head of his bed onto his face. Yuuri tries to ignore the blistering pain in his arm as he snatches them and puts them onto his face. The doorway comes into focus.

In it is a tall, lithe, tan man with a teasing smile on his face. “Chris!” Phichit cries, happy to see him.

Christophe comes the rest of the way in and closes the door behind him. Yuuri thanks every deity he can think of that he went to sleep with a shirt on, but Yuuri’s heartrate shoots up as he remembers last night. Fuck, did he take his medication last night? His breaths are accelerating at an alarming rate and his skin feels like there are insects underneath it.

Yuuri feels a pressure in his hand and looks to see Phichit’s tan hand over his pale one. Yuuri struggles to hear Phichit as he says that Yuuri has a class but that Phichit and Christophe should go ahead on their own.

“See you, Yuuri,” Christophe says in farewell as he and Phichit head out. Yuuri sends what he hopes is a normal, not-shaky smile at Christophe and waves. Over Christophe’s shoulder, Phichit frantically mouths, “Text me!” and then the door closes.

Yuuri puts his hand over his frantic heartbeat and wills it to slow down. Mustering up as much will power as he can, Yuuri somehow moves his legs so that his socked feet are on the floor (ow), stands up (Yuuri prays for his abdomen and thighs), and walks to the bathroom (bleeding mother of Jesus Christ his body is _burning_ ). When even after he has brushed his teeth, washed his face, taken a hot shower (his thighs have never had such dark bruises on them before), and dressed himself his heart has not slowed down, Yuuri decides that he didn’t take his medication last night and chases the pills down with water.

Excruciatingly, he sits back down on his bed. No new video from Viktor, but he uploads on Tuesday in the morning, not Saturday at noon. Yuuri clicks on a video for a beautiful and elaborate makeup tutorial and gets himself comfortable. Yuuri especially likes watching this person because she talks about her day as she does her makeup, so it’s easy to be absorbed in the long video.

Twenty-eight minutes and three seconds later, the video and Yuuri’s breakfast is finished and his heartbeat, while not entirely relaxed, is normal for the anxiety-ridden boy.

There’s a text from Phichit asking if he’s okay and Yuuri sends a quick affirmation. Glancing again at the time and sighing, he collects his things and heads over to his first class of the day.

* * *

 

Yuuri notices two things that are different after the party last night on the way to his class.

Firstly, a lot of people he doesn’t recognize are greeting him in a way that suggest he really ought to recognize them. At least five people have touched his shoulder as they passed by him (one person slapped him on the back which _really_ fucking smart), and another handful have called out his name. Everyone seemed to have something to say, whether it be, “How are you nursing that hangover?” or, “That was a lot of fun last night.” One person mentioned cryptically not to worry about “the thing with my sister.” Yuuri’s imagination spins impossible tales as the vaguely recognizable girl walks farther down the hall.

Secondly, Yuuri seems to be the focus of gossip. There’s a lot of couples or groups of people looking at him as they talk to each other and it is not doing well for his dislike of attention.

A particular piece of conversation that Yuuri wasn’t supposed to hear went:

“Him? Yuuri Katsuki?”

“Yeah, why?”

“He totally blew his presentation in my chem class because of his nerves. I never would have thought he could do something like that.” Upon hearing this, Yuuri walks faster, ignoring the grating of his legs.

“Lilia Baranovskaya’s class?” A pause where one of them must have nodded. “Damn, I feel bad for him.” The conversation became unintelligible after that.

By the time Yuuri got to the lecture, he was regretting every decision he has made in this life and every other, even more so when he discovers a sign on the door proclaiming that class is canceled.

After a few moments where he feels bad for himself, he starts meandering back to his dorm. Since he was passed out this morning, he didn’t get the chance to go on a jog. Not that he could go on a jog; just the thought hurts. Instead of that, Yuuri should work on that essay he’s falling behind on. If he knows himself, though, he’ll probably just end up wasting the next few hours on his computer.

“Yuuri!”

Said boy freezes. Wide-eyed, he turns around and finds Viktor Nikiforov running toward him. Then Yuuri is on his back on the grass. His body cannot handle this.

He doesn’t know what’s happening until after a pink tongue has licked a wet stripe across his nose and an excitable dog is being pulled off him. In a sort of daze, Yuuri notes that Viktor’s hair is reflecting the dreary gray of the clouded sky.

“Makkachin, no!” Yuuri props himself up on his elbows and then, slowly, pushes himself so that he’s sitting properly. The dog licks his face again. Yuuri has seen this dog many times before in Viktor’s social media accounts. The same Viktor Nikiforov who is apologizing desperately.

“It’s fine,” Yuuri interrupts. “I don’t mind.” Viktor looks like he doesn’t believe him and also his gaze is more intense than Yuuri remembers wow. “I u-used to have a dog that would jump on me a lot, back—I mean, I’m used to it. Because my dog did the same thing.” Stop talking, Yuuri begs himself. “He was also a poodle.” Yuuri is tempted to bite his tongue off. Instead he scratches behind Makkachin’s left ear.

Viktor just smiles and Yuuri is blinded. “I’m glad. Makkachin can be a little much for people, especially if they aren’t used to dogs.” Yuuri grunts as the poodle attempts to climb into his lap and Viktor laughs. “Makkachin seems to especially like you, though.”

Viktor sits down beside Yuuri on the grass as Yuuri continues to pet the dog in his lap. When there’s been more silence than he can stand, Yuuri says, “So, did you need to talk to me about something?”

Surprisingly, Viktor says, “Oh, not really.”

It startles the raven-haired boy enough that he looks away from Makkachin’s pleading eyes to Viktor, who looks back at him. “I just wanted to say hi,” he continues.

Yuuri blinks. “Really?”

“Yep! I was wondering if you wanted to hang out sometime. Although, I didn’t expect to see you _now_. Don’t you have class?”

Viktor just wanted to just say hi? Viktor wants to hang out sometime? Viktor knows Yuuri’s class schedule? Yuuri cannot process this amount of information?

“Um, yes, I do. Normally. But it’s been canceled.”

Viktor gasps. “Really?” he asks, even though Yuuri has no idea why anyone would lie about something like that. “Then do you wanna hang out right now?”

Too much information. “Right now?”

“Yes!”

“We would—what would we do?”

Viktor hums and taps his chin, actually contemplating the question. “We could do anything as long as Makkachin can come with us. We could get lunch, or a coffee, or just stay here and play with Makkachin.” Happy to be included, Makkachin’s tail wags back and forth, thumping against Yuuri’s feet.

Yuuri’s mind is in overdrive but he can’t seem to actually form any coherent thoughts. It feels like his cognition has failed entirely.

After a silence that is entirely too long, he says, “Okay.”

Everything is a lot brighter when Viktor smiles. “Any preference for our activity?”

“Ah… coffee?”

“Good choice. Today’s weather makes me crave hot chocolate.” Makkachin stands when Viktor does, and then a pale hand is being offered to Yuuri, still on the ground. Yuuri takes it and his arm trembles and he tries to pull himself up. He keeps himself from making a noise, but there’s no hiding the twist in his expression.

“Sore?” Viktor asks, knowingly and a bit sympathetic.

Yuuri forces a small smile. “Very.”

Without asking, Viktor scoops up Yuuri’s bag from where it had fallen on the ground. Yuuri reaches out his arm to take it, but Viktor just swings it over his shoulder with a wink.

“I could never let the injured burden themselves.” Yuuri barely stops himself from rolling his eyes, but doesn’t protest.

They head over to a destination Viktor has in mind with outdoor seating for Makkachin. Viktor doesn’t put Makkachin on a leash, which makes Yuuri nervous, but he doesn’t do anything other than keep an especially close watch for any oncoming cars.

“You’re really popular, Yuuri,” Viktor says after a third person has greeted Yuuri in one fashion or another. Just as many have stopped to say hello to Viktor, though.

“I… wouldn’t say that. It’s just because…”

“Because of last night?” Viktor supplies when it becomes clear that Yuuri can’t bring himself to say it. The Russian man smiles as Yuuri blushes and glares at the ground. “Well, you did catch everyone off guard.”

“Including myself.” Viktor laughs. “I’ve never done that sort of thing before. I still can’t imagine it.”

Viktor frowns. “Do you not remember?”

“No, I remember most of what happened.” Yuuri really, really tries not to think about his interactions—if they can even be called that—with Viktor at the party. “I just mean that it was so out of character. It feels like it was someone else doing those things. And now everyone—” Yuuri breaks off as he realizes that he’s rambling, but Viktor just smiles in a gesture for him to continue. “Now everyone… thinks I’m someone I’m not. Someone that starts pole dancing at parties and challenges people to dance offs.”

“That was you that did those things, though. You just weren’t worrying about the consequences.”

“I was drunk.”

Viktor smiles. He smiles a lot. “That is another way to put it, yes.”

A few seconds pass in a lull before a thought hits Yuuri in the chest and stops his walking. He wheezes.

“What’s wrong?” Yuuri turns his startled eyes to Viktor’s squally startled ones. “Yuuri?”

“There were—people were—Phichit—”

“Phichit?”

“Phichit!” Yuuri agrees. “He probably put it on his Twitter! He has hundreds of thousands of followers! He’s verified!”

“Yuuri, please calm down,” Viktor pleads. Makkachin cries next to Yuuri’s hip. “What is it?”

Yuuri takes a shaky breath and tries to get his shit together. In the middle of the town center with Viktor Nikiforov and his dog is not a good place for this kind of thing. “I’m sorry,” Yuuri says, “I just remembered that there were a lot of people taking videos of me, and I thought that people like Phichit would spread them around.” Now Viktor is the one looking distressed. “Viktor?”

“I’m sorry!” A pause where Yuuri stares at Viktor uncomprehendingly. “I was one of those people!”

“You were one of those—” Yuuri freezes as he comprehends.

Viktor nods, full of guilt. “I retweeted a bunch of videos.” Alert: Yuuri Katsuki has stopped working. “I didn’t think you would mind! I guess I should have figured that you were drunk and probably didn’t even really know what you were doing, but you—I didn’t think the videos were funny or embarrassing, I swear! I thought that you were amazing in them!” At some point Viktor had grasped Yuuri’s hands and is now holding on to them a bit too tightly. “You’re an amazing dancer!”

“Viktor, stop.” Amazingly, even with Yuuri’s voice soft and shaking, he does. “I’m not mad at you. I’m sure that those videos would have gotten all over the place whether you spread them or not.”

“But you don’t want people to see them.”

Yuuri looks away. “I don’t like the attention. And I look ridiculous.”

“I’m sorry you don’t like the attention, but you don’t look ridiculous, really. You’re just dancing at a party. You have more clothes on than some of the other people in that video. Like Chris.” Yuuri just pulls his hands from Viktor’s grasp.

“Yuuri, please believe me. I was impressed by how well you dance.” Viktor cradles Yuuri’s chin and nudges him until Yuuri is looking him in the eyes again. Or, more like between his eyes, but Viktor will take what he can get. “I used to dance,” Viktor says. That gets Yuuri’s attention. Smile a touch sad and now looking each other in the eye, Viktor continues, “I got pretty popular as a dancer, but I took a nasty fall while I was hiking and got a permanent limp a few years ago. It happened during what felt like the peak of my career.”

Yuuri knows these things, of course, but having Viktor tell him face to face and watching the tragedy unfold on Viktor’s social media are two very different things.

“Watching you dance made me feel like I did back then, before the accident. You dance like you’re making your own music.”

The strange calm that had settled over him rips away and Yuuri goes dizzy with the amount of blood that rushes to his face. Trembling hands come up to pull away the one Viktor still has on his face. Yuuri can’t believe that just happened. It felt like a love confession, or a marriage proposal.

_You dance like you’re making your own music._

“Let’s continue on to the café,” Yuuri says, albeit shakily. Viktor purses his lips but decides to let the topic die. Makkachin happily trots in front of the two of them as they resume walking.

Viktor changes the topic to things like their classes and Yuuri happily follows his lead. Yuuri feels like he has a lot on his plate, but Viktor, who is working for a DVM degree, has a lot of _work_ to do. Viktor says it’s worth it to become a vet.

The rest of the event goes by relatively smoothly, other than when Yuuri has to sit down or stand up (Viktor laughs at whatever face he makes). Yuuri stumbles over his words more than a negligible amount of times, but he is talking to Viktor Nikiforov, after all, someone Yuuri has had a crush on for a very substantial amount of time. If Yuuri had tried to imagine a date with Viktor Nikiforov yesterday, it would have gone much worse.

Only when Viktor has walked Yuuri all the way back to his dorm room (Makkachin was left in the care of some of Viktor’s friends sitting outside) does the reality of the situation fully sink in. Yuuri was thinking earlier about how it was a date, but was it a _date_? Probably not, since Viktor just asked him to hang out. Does that mean they’re friends or was this a weird one-time-platonic-date thing? Maybe Viktor thought Yuuri would be fun to hang out with after last night but now he realizes that Yuuri is actually just anxiety and insecurity incarnated and wants nothing to do with him which would make sense because Yuuri doesn’t want much to do with himself either and where did Viktor go.

“Yuuri, did you hear me?” comes a voice from inside Yuuri’s dorm room. “I’m putting your backpack on your chair, is that okay?”

“Ah, yeah, that’s fine,” Yuuri says, stepping in through the (open ?? this keeps happening) doorway. Viktor puts down the bag and smiles at him. “Thanks,” Yuuri says, not knowing what else to say.

“No problem. We should do this again sometime! Can we trade numbers?”

Yuuri robotically trades phones with Viktor. He can feel himself disassociating from this situation.

“Thanks! I’ll see you later, okay?” Viktor ruffles Yuuri’s hair on the way out. Viktor closes the door behind him and Yuuri stares at the new contact in his phone. _Viktor_ , it reads, with a blue heart after it. Yuuri pinches the inside of his wrist. Ow.

The door bursts open behind him. “Excuse me but did I just see Viktor Nikiforov come out of this dorm room?!” The full weight of a twenty-year-old Thai boy jumps onto his back and clings before screaming into his ear, “ _Yuuri I am your best friend you need to tell me these things_!!”

“ _Ow Phichit get off that really hurts_ —”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was gonna have Yuuri forget everything but have the videos taken go absolutely everywhere, but y'all convinced me in your reveiws that Yuuri forgetting he seduced Viktor when he was drunk off his ass is honestly becoming a cliche in this fandom. y'all got your wish. this is an AU and canon can get Fucked


	3. if i were a boy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> title from Beyonce's song If I Were A Boy!! duh!!!!!!!!!!1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> alright kids in this one i lowkey project my gender identity onto yuuri, who experiences dysphoria.
> 
> if you don't know what dysphoria is, it's like a bundle of anxiety, depression, and disassociation because of a disconnect between body and gender. not a fun time. yuuri mostly experiences anxiety and a bit of disassociation, but it's really not as bad as I'm probably making it sound, and not in the whole chapter. I hope I didn't scare you ?? but that said this chapter is pretty serious because this chapter gets into some Serious Stuff prepare yourself

Sometimes, Yuuri feels really bad, a bundle of anxiety tied even more tightly than the usual, where he has to avoid looking in a mirror too long lest he break down into heavy tears.

Yuuri’s anxiety is something he unfortunately has to ride out. It comes out of nowhere and seems to decide when to leave on its own terms. The best Yuuri can do is try and keep it from getting any worse. Best case scenario, Yuuri can spend all day alone in his dorm room, distracting himself with books, videos, and games.

Today is, decidedly, _not_ the best case scenario; Yuuri has two lectures today and a planned outing with Phichit, Christophe, and Viktor. He can only hope that he’ll have enough energy left at the end of the day to go with them and do whatever they have in mind.

His prayers are not answered. There are still so many people talking to and about him, and his second class is Lilia Baranovskaya’s chemistry class, where the unspeakable had happened during his presentation less than two weeks prior. Becoming more noticeable throughout the day is the way his clothes don’t fit correctly, never falling across his body the way he wants. Every touch to his shoulder or pat on his back makes his skin buzz to the point that it doesn’t feel like the limbs he controls are his own.

When he gets back from the class, he shakily sends a text to Phichit explaining that he can’t go to the meetup later.

 

> Phichit
> 
> that's fine!!!!! any particular reason why?

 

> You
> 
> I had a bad day

 

> Phichit
> 
> what kind?

 

> You
> 
> Dysphoric

 

> Phichit
> 
> okay well take care of yourself until i see you tonight. you can talk to me if you feel overwhelmed you wont be bothering me!!!!!!!!

Yuuri sends back an “okay,” changes into a pair of sweatpants and an extremely baggy shirt, and crawls with his phone under the covers of his bed.

* * *

 

Yuuri wakes the next morning to a text from Viktor wishing Yuuri to feel better soon.

Phichit, always awake before Yuuri, greets his dormmate with a smile and a soft, “good morning.” Yuuri snuggles deeper into the bedding.

“Phichit?” Aforementioned boy hums in acknowledgment, although he doesn’t look up from whatever he’s scrolling through on his phone. “I think I’m a ‘they’ today.”

“Okay. Oh! That reminds me”—he darts from his place on the floor to a bag near his bed—“that I saw some nail polish I thought you might like yesterday.” Yuuri slips on their glasses and three bottles come into focus containing delicate shades of pink, purple, and blue. The colors remind Yuuri of rose petals soft to the touch. Yuuri takes them gratefully when offered.

Phichit has plans for the day because he always has plans, and Yuuri waits for him to leave before pulling themselves out of bed for their morning routine.

Yuuri already knows that today is going to be better—they have zero obligations (other than schoolwork, they suppose), and the telling test of looking in the mirror results in zero waterworks. After washing and brushing, Yuuri gets down to the very serious task of self-pampering.

Three hours later finds Yuuri in a soft pink sweater, matching pink nails (courtesy of Phichit), black skinny jeans, and a full face of makeup. To do their makeup properly, they pinned their bangs back, which, after deciding that they like that way, they left like that. The only incomplete part of the picture is their unfinished toenails, which Yuuri lets dry as they romance a Fire Emblem character on their blue 3DS. All is at peace in the world.

Yuuri jumps out of their skin as a sharp knocking sounds at the door.

“Yuuri!” Fuck, that is not Phichit. Yuuri’s mind aborts. “I wanted to check to see how you’re doing,” he says, opening the door.

Viktor’s eyes find Yuuri and stay there. Yuuri looks at their blue toes. I can probably apply the top coat now, they think hysterically.

“Wow! You look so pretty!” Yuuri’s head snaps up in shock as Viktor sits next to them on the floor. “Why are you all dressed up?”

Yuuri opens and closes their mouth a few times. “I just, um, because, I just wanted to?” Is that the right answer???

“That’s a good reason.” Viktor’s eyes crinkle as he gives them a smile that leaves them dazed. “I love your nails. I used to paint my own, back in high school. Only ever black, though.”

“Oh?” Yuuri is still reeling. Viktor keeps looking at them like they should say something else. Yuuri doesn’t know what to say. “Did you want to try a different color?”

Viktor looks excited. It helps Yuuri relax, if only slightly. “Now?”

“Uh, I guess?”

“I would love to! Will you do them for me? I always got the polish all over the place.”

“Sure.” Yuuri realizes that probably the best thing about wearing a full face of makeup is their blush is unnoticeable. “What color?”

Viktor hums contemplatively before deciding, “You pick.” Yuuri chooses a silvery-blue reminiscent of a winter landscape and takes Viktor’s offered hand after unclenching their white fingers from around the 3DS.

It feels very intimate, cradling his hand and leaning in closely, the only sounds consisting of voices from the courtyard drifting in through the open window and the soft breathing of the two of them. Yuuri’s hands are miraculously steady as they paint Viktor’s nails.

“You’re really good at this.”

“Ah, thank you,” they say, startled at the sudden break from silence.

“How come I’ve never seen you with nail polish?”

The question surprises Yuuri enough that they look up at Viktor’s expression. From it, Yuuri deduces that Viktor is genuinely curious, but not much else.

“I guess I’m just worried about what other people will think.”

“Because you don’t like the attention?”

Yuuri looks back down at Viktor’s hands. “Yeah…”

“And is this why I’ve never seen you in makeup or jewelry before, either?”

These types of questions are making Yuuri nervous. They just nod.

“Yuuri, what exactly are you afraid of?”

Yuuri takes a deep breath and focuses on their heartbeat, Viktor patiently waiting. “If I go out like this, all I can think about is what other people are thinking about when they see me. It’s not just that I don’t like the staring, it’s that I know they’re thinking things like, ‘why is that boy wearing makeup?’”

“Looking like this doesn’t make you any less of a boy, Yuuri.”

Yuuri lets out a single huff of a laugh. Their eyes start to water. “I guess you’re right.”

They know when Viktor notices they’re crying by the startled noise he makes in the back of his throat. “Yuuri, what’s wrong? Did I say something?”

Yes, Yuuri thinks. They don’t speak because they don’t know what they would say and they don’t know if they would be able to, with the way their throat feels clogged. Viktor worriedly attempts to look at Yuuri’s expression, which they hide by turning away.

“Please tell me what’s wrong,” he says after giving up, distressed and concerned. Yuuri tries desperately to collect themselves. They hate it when they cry like this. And in front of Viktor, Yuuri’s friend and crush? This is definitely _not_ how they would have chosen this to go. The way they would have chosen would include the conversation being over text and the two of them being in separate rooms. Fuck, Yuuri’s body is buzzing with shaky adrenaline.

“I’m n-n-not,” Yuuri says, and has to stop. The room is probably quiet but Yuuri hears a tide in their ears. They take an embarrassingly shaky breath and try again. “I’m n-not, a boy.”

Viktor gasps and Yuuri can’t look at him. Not like they could, anyway, after Viktor pulls them into a hug that has Yuuri pulled awkwardly over both of their crossed legs.

“Yuuri,” Viktor says, multiple times, as if he can’t decide how he should phrase his thoughts. “I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have assumed, I’m such a—” Viktor calls himself something in Russian that Yuuri can guess the meaning off well enough.

“It’s fine that—”

“No, it’s not! You shouldn’t have to—”

“Viktor—”

“—deal with people misgendering—”

Yuuri gets Viktor to stop talking by pinching him in his side. “Be quiet and let me go,” Yuuri demands. Viktor obliges, if unwillingly.

“Okay, but just let me say—”

“No,” Yuuri says, putting a hand over Viktor’s mouth. “Listen to me first.” They take their hand back and Viktor, thankfully, stays quiet.

Yuuri sighs, not knowing how to say this. “I knew that you thought I was a boy, and I didn’t do anything to try and make you think differently. I would have told you, eventually, just… after I was sure that you wouldn’t react badly.” A hand reaches up to rub nervously at the back of their neck. “And I guess I also didn’t correct you because usually I _am_ a boy?” Yuuri looks up to Viktor, who has his brows crinkled in either concentration or confusion—Yuuri can’t tell. “And the times I’m not a boy I just spend all my free time alone, doing stuff like this, so…” They shrug, not knowing what else to say and fidgeting in the silence that follows.

Viktor breaths in and says in a single breath, “Okay just let me say that when I said that you dressing this way didn’t make you less of a boy I didn’t mean that you’ll always be a boy I meant that no matter how you dress you are you and not how other people perceive you.” Yuuri blinks and then Viktor is going again. “And I promise that I’m totally okay with you being… do you identify as transgender?” Yuuri nods. “I am totally okay with you being transgender,” he assures. “My baby brother is actually trans male, so I’m somewhat knowledgeable.”

Yuuri sighs and wishes that they knew that _before_ they almost had a panic attack a minute ago.

“So, do you want me to keep calling you by masculine pronouns?”

“Oh, uh… yes? I mean,” Yuuri hastens to clarify, “I go by ‘he’ and ‘they,’ depending on, um, how I feel, but…” Yuuri purses their lilac lips as they ponder how they feel about this. “If switching is too confusing, you can just use ‘he.’ It’s just important that you know I’m not one hundred percent boy.”

Viktor nods, looking serious. “What about in front of other people?”

“No one ever notices, so it doesn’t matter,” they shrug. It’s both relieving and depressing when Phichit refers to Yuuri with gender neutral pronouns and the other person goes on referring to them as ‘he’ without a thought.

“Yes, I’ve noticed that happen to Yuri, too. It’s very sad.” At Yuuri’s look, he explains, “My little brother, his name is Yuri as well. What a coincidence! That could be annoying if you two are in the same room, though.” Yuuri freezes as Viktor takes their left hand and presses his lips to the palm of it. Viktor doesn’t pull away as he looks right into Yuuri’s eyes, pinning them where they are. “Thanks for telling me, even if you didn’t have much of a choice. I like knowing these things about you.”

There is drumming in their ears and they wonder if their blush is possibly melting their makeup off. “No problem,” they say, voice noticeably higher. Yuuri tries to ignore Viktor’s smirk as they pull away their hand and say, “Um, there is one other thing I should tell you, though, and that is, I don’t always respond well to hugs? So please. Ask. If you are going to do that.”

His face crinkles. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable earlier.”

“No no no no no! That was fine earlier! I can just get overwhelmed easily so I need a warning!”

Viktor looks dubious. “Okay, but don’t say yes just because you feel like you have to.”

“I won’t,” Yuuri assures, even though that is probably something they would do. “I swear.”

There’s a quiet moment where the two of them look at each other before Viktor looks down at his hand and goes, “Oh.”

Following his gaze, Yuuri sees that Viktor’s nails on his right hand have been essentially ruined. Yuuri hopes that none of the missing nail polish is on their sweater.

They sigh as they grab a cotton ball and some nail polish remover. “Give me your hand.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry that this was short and there was zero dancing but trans Yuuri is important to me and ?? it disappoints me when theres a trans character in fanfiction and they just completely pass as cis and their daily lives generally aren't effected by being trans, because as a trans person that is Not how it works. I won't pass unless I get surgery and hormone therapy, and doing normal things like introducing myself is like a freaking police interrogation. so obviously I have taken this job of representation on myself, gotta better the world one step at a time
> 
> next chapter there will be more dancing and viktor and YURIO MY //sON
> 
> and if i made a mistake please Tell Me it can be like "you forgot a quotation mark" because if you do not tell me i will find it myself in like one month and be like fuck!!!!! now everyone thought viktor was referring to himself in third person goddamnit!!!!!!!!!!


	4. baby, you're making a fool of me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> guys i did it oh my god
> 
> it's been over two months i think? but there was so much i had to deal with that i'm honestly proud of myself for getting this chapter done at all. i'm still sorry for the wait though!!! i hope you enjoy!!!!!!
> 
> chapter title from Crazy In Love by Beyoncé because boi yuuri is in deep
> 
> also, yuuri's pronouns change in the middle so try not to let that throw you off :)

Yuuri has discovered that, amazingly, Viktor is not nearly as intimidating once he warms up to someone.

Yuuri had just assumed from his charismatic personality that he instantly warmed up to pretty much everyone, but Yuuri didn’t get it. Viktor is a huge dork. He gets pouty when he hasn’t had enough sleep, he whines when he’s hungry, and sometimes he snorts when he laughs. When Phichit made an “in bed” joke and Viktor laughed for almost a full minute, Yuuri got it. Viktor may be five years older than Yuuri, and he may be working to get his DVM, but he is, actually, a child.

“Yuuri, I’m leaving because I need to get notes from Seung-gil but I’ll meet you there, okay?”

“Okay,” Yuuri says, not looking away from his phone as he lies in bed. Phichit closes the door behind him.

Yuuri turns off his phone and lets out a deep sigh when he decides that he probably can’t spend any more time doing nothing. He rolls out of bed (yes, literally rolls; the impact from the floor helps wake him up) and starts getting ready for the day.

By the time he’s picking out his outfit, he still is kind of wanting to get back in bed, so he pulls on the most comfortable jeans he owns, sneakers that he probably needs to replace, a busted tee, and a sweatshirt. Hopefully it remains cool enough to warrant this type of clothing.

There’s nothing particularly special going on; just a meet up between Yuuri, Viktor, Phichit, and Makkachin. Yuuri guesses that the only thing “special” about it is that they’re all going to pile into Phichit’s car and go to do… something. Yuuri isn’t sure. No one is sure, actually. For whatever reason, the others think that getting together without knowing what they’re going to do makes it more interesting. Yuuri disagrees.

He’s walking to across the grounds and looking out for Makkachin when his phone buzzes.

> Viktor [blue heart]
> 
> Hey, sorry if this is weird to ask and if I should have asked earlier, but how should I refer to you?

Yuuri is both embarrassed and pleased after he understands what Viktor is asking. His pace slows down as he replies, a grossly fond smile edging onto his face.

> You
> 
> “he” is good for now [smiley face] Thanks for asking

 

> Viktor [blue heart]
> 
> No need to thank me!! [smiley face][red heart][smiley face][red heart][smiley face][red heart]

Yuuri needs to get his fluster under control very quickly because he can see Viktor sitting on the grass and waving to him. He waves back and then Makkachin takes notice of him, too, bounding over. Yuuri kneels on the ground to meet the dog and laughs as he tries to avoid letting too much slobber get on his face.

Viktor reminds Yuuri vaguely of a dog on the best of days, but especially as Viktor jogs to Yuuri from where he had been sitting on the grass with Makkachin.

“Yuuri!” He makes an aborted motion, starts to ask the question, “Is it okay if—?” and Yuuri understands what he’s asking with an electric feeling in his spine. Yuuri just opens his arms as a response and suddenly has an armful of Viktor Nikiforov.

“You act just like your dog,” Yuuri says, trying not to giggle at both the situation and Viktor’s hair tickling his ear.

Viktor pulls back with a huge, heart-shaped smile. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

More giggles pile up at the bottom of his throat, but Yuuri manages to keep them, contained behind a toothy smile. “You should,” he says.

Now Yuuri is starting to realize that probably the most popular person on campus just ran up and hugged him. Miraculously, Yuuri looks around and finds that the others basking in the cool, sunny day seem to be concerned with their own matters, at least for today. Yuuri lets out a held breath without realizing.

Holy shit, Yuuri zoned out and now Viktor has a very intense look on his face. Is he mad that Yuuri wasn’t listening? He’s looking at Yuuri’s sweatshirt, is something—

Yuuri has had many moments in his life where everything around him came to a stop. Probably top of the list is when his parents called him with the news of his childhood dog’s death. But Yuuri would be hard pressed to find another time that felt as bad as right now.

Because Yuuri’s old, insignificant, worn, blue sweatshirt has Viktor Nikiforov’s face on it.

Yuuri can’t tell or control whatever face he’s making right now, but if he had to take a wild guess, he would say that he probably looks like he’s about to piss himself.

Yuuri swallows, doesn’t feel his throat move. He looks up at Viktor, who is—well, he was looking at the sweatshirt, but now he’s looking up at Yuuri, shocked and when it all sinks in he’ll be disgusted, probably, because holy shit Yuuri looks like a massive stalker and doesn’t it make it look worse that Yuuri never told Viktor about it, like Yuuri was keeping it a weird secret, but just in _general_ this whole thing is weird and so yeah, it looks like Yuuri was keeping it a secret because he _was_ and then he wore Viktor’s fucking _merchandise_ from _years ago_ like an _idiot_

“I’msosorry,” Yuuri breathes, feeling like all his blood simultaneously decided to start pumping again but only in certain places, specifically his face and ears and starting to crawl down his neck. Yuuri tries to say that he’ll go back and change into something else, but it becomes an incoherent ramble of a paragraph that even Yuuri can’t decipher. He’s backing up as he speaks, hands held up in front of his chest and elbows pulled close to his body.

When Viktor grabs his wrists, his first instinct is to yank his arms away, but he keeps it to more of a very obvious flinch.

“Yuuri, shh,” Viktor says. Yuuri can’t stop his eyes from glancing from Viktor’s hands to his face to the area behind Viktor’s shoulder. “Shh,” he says again, taking his right hand and letting it rest on the top of Yuuri’s head.

Yuuri tries very hard to shh, but his heart has never felt so frantic. He seals his lips together and looks up at Viktor, who is. Smiling? And his face is kind of pink, and holy shit Viktor is trying not to laugh.

Yuuri feels like his time on this world is coming to an end very quickly.

“I’m sorry,” Viktor says, voice waving. “I’m not laughing at you, please, I’m just…” Viktor pauses to take a deep breath. Yuuri tries to pull his hands away and Viktor squeezes his wrists but then lets them go. He places a hand on Yuuri’s shoulder instead, as if worried that he might make a run for it before Viktor can say whatever he needs to. Yuuri wouldn’t put it above himself.

“I was just really surprised. You never mentioned it, and it has me with my long hair, and you got really embarrassed. I mean, I do think all this is kind of funny? But mostly I just think you’re really cute.”

Yuuri doesn’t understand. Viktor seems content to wait until then.

He feels a fresh wave of embarrassment wash over him, but it’s more of a surf and less of a tsunami. Viktor says Yuuri having his old merchandise is cute? And because of that Viktor got red and smiley?

Still doesn’t make sense, but Yuuri is ready to leave this conversation behind. Viktor might just be more flattered and less weirded out. “I still need to, um. Change.” Stop looking at me, Yuuri internally pleads. Viktor, the cruel, beautiful man, does not.

He smiles again, the pink finally fading from his cheeks. “I’ll go with you.” Yuuri blinks, turns around, and starts walking. He immediately regrets his actions and falls back to walk by Viktor’s side. Viktor forgives him with another smile (how many smiles can one Russian man achieve and, more importantly, how many can Yuuri survive the reception of) and Yuuri tries to smile back but it’s probably the most fleeting attempt at a smile he’s ever made.

Yuuri thinks about maybe taking off his sweatshirt right now and wrapping it up and hiding it from the rest of the world, but what if it brings even more attention to what he’s wearing? Yuuri decides that he can’t live with the suspense and takes it off.

 “—don’t want to say that it’s because he’s from Thailand, but Phichit’s driving does kind of scare me.” Oops, Viktor has been talking.

“He wouldn’t be offended because you’re right,” Yuuri finds himself saying. “He learned to drive on the streets of Bangkok when he was thirteen. By himself.” Viktor blinks at Yuuri and Yuuri blinks back. “On a motorcycle,” he adds.

“Phichit is actually kind of amazing,” Viktor decides.

“I think you mean ridiculous.”

“First of all,” a voice says, and Yuuri turn to see Phichit walking up to them, “Viktor, thank you. Second of all, Yuuri, I thought we were best friends.”

Deadpan, Yuuri says, “I’ve been meaning to talk to you about that.”

Phichit’s expression contorts and a hand comes up to grip Viktor’s shoulder as if for support. “My poor heart,” he mourns, pathetically. Viktor looks unnecessarily amused. Yuuri ignores them both and goes to root around for another comfortable outer layer to wear.

* * *

It’s eight in the morning after a night of staying up until somewhere around four watching videos on YouTube when a furious knocking comes from the door. Yuuri groggily pulls the covers over their head as Phichit calls out for whoever is behind the door to come in.

“ _Yuuri_!” the voice calls, and Yuuri is conflicted because they always love seeing Viktor but they also don’t want to wake up for another few hours.

“Yuuriiiiiiiii,” Viktor sings when he doesn’t get an immediate response. He’s closer now and Yuuri pulls the covers tighter around themselves. Yuuri responds in a whine that clearly conveys _being-awake-physically-hurts_ and they hear Phichit try to muffle a laugh from the other side of the room. Fucking rude.

Yuuri yelps when something pokes their socked foot, quickly pulling it back under the cover of their blanket. Now _Viktor_ is laughing. Why is everyone bullying Yuuri so early in the morning.

“What,” they mumble, reaching for their glasses that are usually somewhere on the bed. It’s not a good location, since Yuuri could very easily roll onto them in their sleep, but when they finally do go to sleep they’re usually too exhausted to put their glasses anywhere other than right next to them.

Yuuri finds the blue frames and slips them on as they blearily sit up. They went to sleep last night in a hoodie (not the one with Viktor’s face) and a pair of tiny blue running shorts. And socks, obviously.

Viktor is squatting on the side of Yuuri’s bed with his hands resting on the bed and a smile on his face. He looks nice, as always, in a pair of beige pants and white V-neck. Perfect hair, perfect eyes, bright smile. Way too nice for anyone to look at eight in the morning, Yuuri decides. Yuuri runs a hand through their hair half-heartedly, but they can tell without bothering to check that it didn’t do anything.

“What?” Yuuri asks again when Viktor just smiles at them expectantly.

“I saw the video!” he enthuses. Yuuri blinks at him. Instinctually, they glance over to Phichit, but he’s furiously texting someone on his phone with a smile that tells Yuuri it’s probably Seung-gil. They don’t know what sort of insight they expected from Phichit, anyway.

“Video,” Yuuri repeats, looking back at Viktor. He nods, almost furiously.

“Yes! A bunch of people told me to watch it because you’re in it!”

Yuuri instantly becomes about 60% more alert. They really don’t need any more videos of them up on the internet. “What video?” they ask with trepidation.

Viktor just responds by plopping next to Yuuri on the bed and pulling up something on his phone. He puts the phone between them as a video starts and Yuuri understands immediately.

It’s choreography to the song Confidant by Justin Bieber. Yuuri remembers that class from almost a month ago because it was being specially taught by a well-known dance instructor. It had filled up quickly, and Yuuri was one of the last people to slip into the que.

There had been someone there at the end to get in some recording, which wasn’t surprising. Yuuri been asked to be in one of the videos, and Yuuri _would_ have declined, but almost everyone else was being asked to dance, too. And it wasn’t like Yuuri was being asked to dance alone; they were the back right of a trio of dancers. Someone else was asked to be in the front, probably because she was more well-known; Yuuri recognized her from some other choreography videos they’d seen online.

But she had also been asked to dance with a bunch of _other_ dancers in _other_ sets of trios and Yuuri honestly didn’t think that the one video they were in would be one of the clips in the four minute and fifty second compilation. Let alone the first group.

Yuuri can’t do more than stare blankly as they watch themselves start to dance for moment or two before eventually mumbling, “Oh, my God,” and beginning to blush.

This is the first respectable video Yuuri has ever seem themselves dance in. Compared to the video of them making an egg sandwich and dancing on a pole at a fraternity party, this is not nearly as painful to watch. Still a bit embarrassing, but only in the sense that they don’t really enjoy their picture being taken.

“What?” Phichit says, as he presses in on Yuuri’s other side to look at the video. Yuuri is now squished between their best friend biggest crush. They feel the points of contact between them and Viktor with an embarrassing amount of clarity.

Phichit gasps when he sees the video. It switches over to the next group of dancers and Phichit goes, “Again, again!” Yuuri is too mortified to look over at Viktor’s expression, but he obligingly starts the video over. Yuuri holds back a groan and takes a slow breath, instead.

The blanket has been pushed around enough that it only really hangs off Yuuri’s knees and spills over the bed, but Yuuri doesn’t notice this until Viktor shifts so that he’s holding the phone up with the arm farthest from Yuuri and putting all of his weight on his other hand. Which he puts on the bed between him and Yuuri, and consequently brushes against Yuuri’s thigh. Their bare thigh. Touching Viktor’s bare hand. Holy fuck. It’s eight in the morning.

Yuuri doesn’t even bother trying to tough it out. They just accept their fate and try not to think about it so that they won’t get too flustered. But then Yuuri feels breath against their ear and oh my _god_ viktor is breathing on yuuri’s ear because he _shifted to that his chest is pressing up against their back hwat the fcu k_

Yuuri’s hand shoots up to grab onto Viktor’s wrist before they know what they’re doing. “I’m!” They move the phone out of their way so that they can stand up. Their legs feel barer than before. “Gotta get ready!” they say, and flee to the cramped bathroom.

Yuuri should not be so familiar with the feeling of absolutely combusting, yet here they are. In their shared bathroom. Combusting. On the floor.

Could they be any more fucking obvious? The way Phichit has always acted about this makes Yuuri want to think that, no, they cannot. They bite their lip to keep in a scream. What if Viktor knows? Yuuri doesn’t want to think about it. If Viktor knows (which he probably does _fuck Yuuri has a fucking sweater with his face on it_ ) then Yuuri pledges to spontaneously forget everything about their identity. Dissociative fugue would be a blessing.

Yuuri sighs when they see themselves in the mirror. Until then, they should clean themselves up. They look like a fucking mess.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you care about this kind of thing, then the type of dancing Yuuri was doing is similar to the type of dancing in this: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sNCtvmjQBwE&t=317s Except. To Confidant by Justin Bieber and not That's What I Like by Bruno Mars, obviously.
> 
> So just one other thing I want to say about the story; this is going a little slower than I expected, but this story was always more about Yuuri than like, Yuuri and Viktor's relationship, I guess? And I don't want to rush anything. I think that either this story will have six chapters instead of five or chapter five will be /really/ long. Also, last chapter I said there would be Yurio and obviously there was no Yurio BUT, definitely Yurio next chapter. I love him so much. Get ready.
> 
> If you saw any mistakes please don't hesitate to tell me! Thanks for reading you're great!!!!!!!!!!!!


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